


Bring Me that Horizon

by hyperion



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Limbo, M/M, Tokens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:34:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyperion/pseuds/hyperion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur doesn't know exactly where he is, but he knows he has to get away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring Me that Horizon

Arthur had woken up on the beach of a crumbling city. The water lapped all the way up to his waist and there was sand in his mouth. He turned over onto his back, spitting out the sand and trying to wipe it from his mouth with even sandier hands. Looking up into the sky, Arthur realized that he was fucked. So very, very fucked. He had no idea where he was, the city in front of him looked as if it had been abandoned for decades, and Arthur somehow knew that there were no inhabitants further in.

He sat up and looked around him. There was the horizon ahead, always out of reach. Around him was more sand, more beach, and further off, some trees that could cling to their sandy substrate. Arthur knew he had to get out of here, but he didn’t know how. The trees, they way they were bowed, made him think of boats.

Arthur had his small boat nearly half-way built when he saw another person shimmering like a mirage in the distance. His plan had been to sail off into that horizon, because there had to be something out there. He stopped his work, watching, waiting, as the person came closer. He was a big man, broad but not exceedingly tall. His hair was short, brushed to the side, and sunglasses hid much of his face. He was tattooed, Arthur could see because he was bare-chested, his shirt slung over his shoulder.

“A bit warm today, love,” he said casually as he approached.

Arthur had not spoken in almost a month, by his reckoning. “Who…?” he asked slowly.

“Aww, you haven’t forgotten me, have you?”

Arthur blinked at him, not knowing where to begin. The man looked familiar in a gut instinct way, and Arthur knew he was important, but he couldn’t explain that knowledge anymore than knowing the city was empty.

Eames put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a poker chip. “This helps me, you know, helps me remember who I am and where I am. But lately, this one,” he said, taking the shirt off his shoulder to reveal more tattoos. He pointed to a small red tattoo over his heart. “This one, the one I got for you just in case of a situation just like this, has been helping me more than anything.”

Arthur stepped off his half-finished boat and walked up to Eames. He touched the tattoo, mesmerized. “This is mine?” he asked. “This is mine,” he said. Arthur reached into the pocket of his pants. There was a small red die he hadn’t noticed before. Everything came rushing back to him, like his brain had been sucked out of his head and now was being forced back in through a pressure hose.

He looked up at Eames, gripping the die so hard it felt like it might break the skin. He recognized Eames now. There were two battles raging inside him: throwing himself at Eames and kissing him senseless or asking, “What the hell are you doing down here? What about the mission.”

“Oh, you know, all gone to hell. I came down here to get you quick as I could.”

Arthur did throw himself at Eames then, tackling him into the sand. He kissed Eames hard, teeth cutting lips open, fingers digging into each other to hold on. They only broke apart when the wind carried a rolling, thunderous melody their way.

“There’s our ride,” Eames said.

Arthur looked at his boat, grateful that Eames had found him before he had finished it. He got up and held out a hand to Eames. “Let’s go jump off a building, Mr. Eames.”


End file.
